


Rain Down On Me

by magichistorian



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Psychic Bond, Slow Burn (ish), The Death Cure Spoilers, also, book!verse, movie!verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-15
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-08-23 22:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16627856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magichistorian/pseuds/magichistorian
Summary: 'Tommy. It's okay. Breathe. You’re not in danger. Not right now anyway.'“Who-who are you? Why are you in my head?” His breathing had slowed, but he didn't notice.'That doesn't matter right now. If I had to say, I am probably like a guardian angel or some cheesy thing like that. But right now, I need you to calm down. You're going to be okay.'------Or, Newt succeeds in committing suicide, and Thomas isn’t the only voice in his head anymore.





	1. Spare Me Your Judgments, and Spare Me Your Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first Maze Runner fic! 
> 
> This will mostly follow book-verse, but parts will be movie-verse. (I will pick and choose for what works best for the story. Bear with me, the actual plot isn't the most important part here, but let me know if things get confusing)
> 
> reviews are appreciated!!

_Minho jogged into the Glade, slowing down to catch his breath as he left the maze. He’d come back a little later than usual since he'd spent a bit of extra time checking out some weird rocks in his section had ended up being nothing. He walked toward the map room, hoping to see Newt. He’d seemed off that morning before they left and he was worried about him._

_But when he got to the map room, Newt wasn't there. Seeing Alby, he asked him._

_“Hey, Alby.” The other boy looked up from a paper he was examining. “Have you seen Newt? I came back late, there shouldn't be any runners still out.” He chewed his lip in worry. There wasn't any real cause for worry quite yet, but something felt wrong in his gut._

_Alby checked his watch and winced. “We've got maybe an hour? It's not quite in a real danger zone but I'm kinda worried. Did he say he had some extra running to do today or something?” Alby asked. They both knew it was a stretch but he asked anyway._

_“No.” Minho hesitated. “He might just be a little slow today but….I'm not taking any chances. I have plenty of time. I'm going to check on him.” Alby looked like he wanted to disagree, but stopped. He had that same bad feeling, and there was no stopping Minho when it came to Newt._

* * *

  


Thomas gasped. Squinting at his surroundings, he could see small shapes and walls around him. He was in an...enclosed space? Some box? He sat up and reached out, feeling his heartbeat quicken and nervous sweat prickling his skin. Feeling the stiff metal cage around him, he started panicking. Where was he? WHO was he? He could recall his name- Thomas, but that was it. His arms and legs started twitching like he was shot full of energy and needed to run. He shouted and banged on the top of the cage, but nothing happened. At that moment, he realized he was moving upward, toward some unknown destination.

He noticed his breath picking up, coming out in short, fast huffs, panic trickling along his nerves. But he couldn't stop. He screamed again. He wanted, needed to get out, but couldn't. He banged on the roof. He felt nauseous. He hoped he wouldn't vomit. In the darkness, he couldn't be sure he wouldn't sit in it.

 _Tommy_.

Thomas jumped. He had just heard a voice. It seemed to be calling him, but he didn't recognize the nickname.

_Tommy. It's okay. Breathe. You’re not in danger. Not right now anyway._

“Who-who are you? Why are you in my head?” His breathing had slowed, but he didn't notice.

_That doesn't matter right now. If I had to say, I am probably like a guardian angel or some cheesy thing like that. But right now, I need you to calm down. You're going to be okay._

Guardian angel? Thomas wanted to laugh. He'd never heard anything like that. He opened his mouth to say so, the words on his lips, but before he could, the box’s movement that had been out of his mind suddenly shot to attention as it stopped. The box ceased its ascent, and as he looked around, a bright beam of light split his vision about his head and he had to cover his eyes.

Faint voices muttered around him, too many to pick out voices. There were snickers, arguing and numerous words he couldn't even recognize. He blinked against the sunlight and figures came into view all around him, standing above him, outside the box.

“Heya greenie.”  
“He looks like he’s gonna puke!”  
“That Klunk's a Slopper, I’ll bet ya.”

More laughter, and then a body jumped down next to him and shoved a hand in his face. “C’mon greenie. Up and at ‘em. It's gettin’ late and you've got a lot to see.” Thomas took it cautiously and strong arms yanked him to his shaky feet. He tried to suppress tremors of fear but as he looked around, he saw they were all young boys, somewhere in their teens. He wondered how many were his age, before wondering how old HE was. He had no clue. That alone did enough to solidify that bad feeling he had.

After he had been pulled out of the cage, or Box, as they called it, and the dark-skinned kid had yelled at everyone, he started calming down. His breathing evened out, and he could swear he heard that strange boy’s voice. The dark kid made him a bit nervous though, he seemed intimidating and angry. His glare made Thomas flinch a bit against his will. He really wished someone else would explain things. Eventually, he’d been sent off with a short round kid named Chuck that he immediately liked better than the other guy. His name was Alby, he learned.

Thomas couldn't control his curiosity and started wandering around, getting as close as he could to the large gaps in the walls all around them before Chuck yelled at him and some boy pushed him away and yelled at him for _something_. He was one of those people Thomas might say liked to pick fights for the hell of it.

Shortly after that, someone started screaming.

He jumped, Chuck looked queasy, and everyone else looked….mildly upset? He couldn't understand why someone _screaming_ wasn’t a serious issue.

“What the hell? Who is that screaming?’ Thomas asked Chuck between bouts of yelling.

“It's Ben. Poor guy got stung. He'll be ok after a few days.” Chuck said without elaborating. Stung? What did that mean? Was that guy really going to be ok? That screaming didn't sound very happy.

“If you really wanna go, Greenie, why not go investigate? He's just upstairs in the Homestead,” The boy who has pushed him explained, way too nice. Thomas didn't trust him, but he did want to know. Taking a deep breath, he jogged up to the building and after a moment's hesitation, went inside.

The screams were even louder inside. He finally entered the room. As soon as Alby saw him, he got chased out, a crowd of boys staring and laughing as Alby slammed it behind him with his last couple angry words. Thomas slunk back to Chuck and ignored the other boy’s jeers.

Luckily, he’d gotten himself a bed with the help of Chuck and stripped, preparing to lay down and sleep when the voice came back.

_You alright Tommy?_

“You again?” He muttered. Chuck looked up, and he waved him away. Whispering quieter, he asked, “Hey. can I talk to you without talking out loud? I don't really want to make first impressions by convincing everyone is crazy and talk to a boy in my head. The voice laughed.

_You don't want people thinking you're crazy? You're no fun. But yeah. Just think what you want to say. Imagine that you're talking out loud. I don't really know how to explain._

Thomas tried what the voice suggested. ‘Like this?’ He thought.

_Yeah! Perfect._

‘Cool. Now that I'm calm, mind telling me why I have a British teenager talking to me in my own head?’  
I’m not really sure, to be honest. I recall most stuff. But one moment I was….well, and the next I was here. Nobody explained anything, I just somehow knew how to communicate with you and that I can help you out.

‘That’s fucking weird.’

_Tell me about it._

‘So, who are you? I don’t even know your name.’

_Why do you care? Anyway. It's Newt._

‘Cool.’

 _Yeah_.

The conversation tapered off awkwardly and eventually, Thomas fell asleep.

* * *

  


“Rise and shine, Newbie.” said a low voice. Thomas jumped up, to see Alby above him, a finger at his lips shushing him.

Thomas sat up, nervous. “Alby what-”

“Come on. We’re going to do the tour now. Hurry up.” Thomas shuffled out of bed, pulled on his shirt and trotted after Alby. He showed him the griever -which gave Thomas half a heart attack- then spent the next few hours discussing all the jobs in the glade while also yelling at him anytime he tried asking a question.

At one point, the rude boy- Gally, Chuck had told Thomas- jeered at him, spitting some rude comment about yesterday. Thomas shot a glare but ignored him.

The rest of the day flashed by in a blur. The box was blaring the alarm, which, according to Alby, was  _not_ supposed to happen. The box revealed a mysterious girl with a message that sent shivers down Thomas' spine. According to the other Gladers, this was completely new. Even weirder, Thomas felt like he knew her. Yikes. Then she'd gone into a coma, and the Gladers had dispersed into chattering groups, everyone on edge by the most recent development and her chilling words about her being the last one. He tried to keep her out of his head. He had only just gotten there and things were already going wrong. Just his luck the hell-maze could get worse. 

* * *

  


As he soaked his shirt in sweat working on his next task (today was the gardens) Thomas pinpointed a thought nagging his brain. The Glade felt _disorganized_. The power system felt strange. Alby clearly held the position of leader, but for some reason, Thomas didn't think his aggressive leadership could have gotten them this smoothly functioning. Maybe something was wrong with Alby. The whole glade looked like a well-oiled machine suddenly catching rust, he realized. He'd only been there a day and a half and could tell something felt just a bit wrong. But he had no idea what it could be, so he went back to planting lettuce or whatever the hell the keeper told him to do.

\----

He’d finished lunch break and went back to farming with Zart. The keeper had told him to fill the basket with fertilizer and he wanted to complain, but on through to being chewed out by Alby again sent him off, grumbling as he went towards the woods.

_It's just cow poo, whiny._

‘Shut it. You're not the one who has to smell it.’ Newt laughed at that.

_I guess being dead has its perks._

Thomas froze. ‘You’re..you're dead?’

_I mean, I have to be, right? Living people have bodies. And I…_

Newt trailed off, and Thomas could tell he had left. He didn't know how to feel about that. Newt, dead? Thomas had barely known the guy (or disembodied consciousness, but semantics) for a couple days but it felt wrong. He had been so focused on that, that when he looked up, he was in an unfamiliar part of the woods. To his left, he saw a collection of wooden crosses that he realized were graves.  
Alby had mentioned the maze was dangerous, and Zart had told him all the ways they had failed to escape through the box hole, and other places. This just started putting things in perspective. This was his life. He started walking towards it when he heard a rustling and newts voice.

_Tommy! Behind you!_

He whirled around just as someone swung a large knife at him. He shouted in surprise and jumped away, the blade barely nicking his sleeve. When he looked at his attacker, he saw it was the sick boy, Ben.

“Hey. It's Ben, right? What’s your deal? I’m-”

“SHUT UP!” the boy screamed. Thomas bolted. Not a nice Ben. As he ran back toward the Glade, he could hear Ben swearing profanities and things about “it being his fault” and “I'm gonna kill you”. Overall, not the most fun conversation he’d had.

Apparently (and luckily for Thomas), the shouting had attracted some Gladers, as a few were running their way and got intercepted. Behind them Alby stood holding -shit, was that a crossbow?- in front of him.

“Ben. Put down the knife. Step away. You're not well.” Ben hissed instead and stepped closer to Thomas. “Ben. I mean it. Step back or I shoot.”

Thomas backed away, really hoping he would just listen to Alby. But he didn't. He jumped at Thomas again but was stopped with a wet thunk. He fell to the ground, an arrow sticking out of his cheek. Thomas turned away, forcing down a wave of nausea.

_Hey. You ok? That was scary._

‘Yeah, that almost gave me a heart attack...Thanks for the heads up.’ Out loud he asked, “Alby! What's wrong with him? He was the sick one in the homestead, right? Why was he attacking me?”

Alby shook his head. “Yeah, it was. I’m not sure what happened. Most people who go through the changing don't go this far off the deep end.”

Thomas frowned. He then made the mistake of glancing at Ben again. The sight of that arrow made him lose the lunch he was hoping to keep down. He trudged back to the homestead. He probably had gotten a pass for the rest of the day, and even if he hadn't, didn't care. 

Chuck tried to talk to him and he did his best to sound like he wasn't ignoring the boy, without putting time into the conversation. 

Eventually, Chuck’s chattering that had tiptoed over the line of annoying ceased, and he fell asleep. In his dreams, he saw labcoats, the word WICKED, and a boy with a beautiful face and blonde hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is mostly exposition, it (hopefully) gets more interesting from here on out!


	2. Recently, Mine Have Been Tearing My Seams

_Minho ran out of the Glade a little faster than he normally would. Newt might just be late, he told himself. He’d probably run into him going back any second as he turns a corner. Newt would jump, startled, then tease Minho for worrying so much. Then they’d run back together, and eat whatever mean Frypan cooked up. Frypan always made great meals._

_But something felt wrong, Very wrong. Newt had seemed off that morning before they left. Out of it. Gloomy. It set him on edge seeing their kind second-in-command like that. Any other day, any other time, he wouldn’t be so worried. But Minho knew Newt._

_He’d been running around 10 minutes, stuck in his own head when he heard something. He bolted around the corner ahead of him and froze._

_He’d been right. He’d been so shucking right. And he hated himself for it._

_A few feet from where he stood lay Newt. A bloody Newt, leg bent in the wrong direction. Minho’s breath hitched. He stumbled next to him, clasping his grimy hand when he saw Newt’s eyes meeting his._

_“Why?” He hiccuped and his vision blurred. “Newt, why?” He looked away, before whimpering in pain. Minho could see tear tracks on his face._

_“I’m...sorry...Minho.” He whispered. Before crying out again and desperately trying to catch his breath. “I….couldn’t do it.” Minho sobbed, holding his hand tighter._

_“It's ok! Newt, I’m not mad! It's ok. Just let me help you. I’ll get you to the Med-jacks and they’ll fix you up.”_

_He crouched, reaching under his back and legs as carefully as he could, avoiding his one leg that he could barely look at without a wave of nausea flooding him. He lifted, and Newt cried out again._

_“I'm so sorry Newt. We’re almost done.”_

\-----

After a few grueling hours, The next keeper he had to work with finally let him out on a break. While he was out, something new happened. A person ran _out of the maze_. He’d been told all about how important it was to never go in there, and then this random guy comes sauntering out like he owned the place? Though Thomas quickly realized he wasn't actually sauntering. He looked mere seconds from falling right on his face.

Thomas ran over to him, shouting for someone to bring water. The tall Asian man finally stopped. When he ran up to the boy, Thomas could swear he heard Newt, but he couldn't hear any more from the boy, so he refocused on the guy. One of the Gladers had sprinted over with a jar of water, and the guy chugged it. Moments later, Alby showed up as well.

While the Asian -Minho, he heard- was getting sassy with Alby, Thomas tried talking to Newt. ‘Hey. you there? I swear I could feel you, in my mind.’

_Oh. Yeah. Sorry._

‘What for? You're fine. I was just surprised to notice I could actually sense your presence. Maybe you really are my guardian angel. Floating around with puffy white wings?

_Ha, I’m not sure about that one, Tommy. I'm not really sure if I have a body at all, but I am bloody certain there aren't any wings that I can see._

‘Strange. So are you just floating around until we talk?’

_Pretty much. It's hard to explain. I really don't know how we got like this. But... it's nice. I like talking to you._

Thomas could feel himself smiling. ‘Yeah, me too. I-’

“Thomas!” Thomas blinked. He’d been so focused on what Newt was saying that he didn't notice Alby talking to him.

“Awake now, shank? You were grinnin’ like you have some dumb girlfriend on your mind. I need ya.”

Thomas muttered out an embarrassed apology before trailing after Alby with Newt giggling in his brain. As he walked, he pictured a figure floating behind him and almost laughed to himself.

After finishing Alby’s chore, he met up with Chuck for dinner. The took their plates and set off. Thomas sat by him, hoping to ask the boy a few things.

“Hey Chuck.” the boy looked up.

“Yeah?” He responded with a mouth full of food. Today’s special: ham sandwiches.

“I've been noticing something’s all outta whack here. Is Alby really the leader? He’s so grumpy all the time, I can’t see him running the Glade this smoothly. Honestly, everyone seems grumpy. I’d have thought in a place like this you're all buddy-buddy.”

Chuck grimaced. “Alby doesn't like us talking about it. Minho gets really angry if anyone brings up the incident from last month.” Thomas looked up from his sandwich.

“Incident?”

Chuck flushed. “The...the second-in-command died recently. I had...well, I’d been here only a week, hardly knew the guy. It was really upsetting, and Alby is too shucked about it to get himself together so we’re functioning, but...It's not the same.” Chuck sighed. “Everyone here loved him. Really nice guy. Really held the group together.”

Thomas noticed his lip trembling. He didn't want to pester, but he was a curious guy. “What happened?”

“Happened?” He squeaked. “There's really nothing to talk about, really Alby would kill you!” He picked up his plate and scuttled away, avoiding the sentence topic completely.

Thomas sighed. He clearly wasn’t getting anything more from him.   
\-----

Thomas tried not to pay too much attention to the other things going on. Ben’s banishing made him feel sick, and he talked with Newt until he felt better.

In the morning Alby and Minho had left to check out something Minho had seen- a dead griever he heard from someone, one being out in the day said someone else- and they were still out. He hadn't even thought much of it until the sun began to hide behind the tall walls and everyone started whispering about how late the two were; nobody wanting to be the first to say the obvious. Then he realized the problem: the doors would close soon and the pair were nowhere to be seen. Everyone felt panic trickling up their spines- as they should. The two people in charge were gone, and likely dead. He just wondered why he _wasn't_ so worried.   
  
He walked over to where the doors remained open, pushing past a small cluster of Gladers. He stepped up towards the doors, peering as far in as he could without actually going inside.

_I'm sure they will be fine._

‘Thanks, Newt. That’s what everyone is trying to tell themselves, but I can tell they're worried.’

_...Yeah._

‘You ok?’

_Of course. It's just a bit sad, waiting for someone who may not come back._

Thomas frowned. Then a loud shouting got his attention. His head shot up and saw what everyone had focused their attention on. Inside the maze, just past a corner, two figures came into sight.

Thomas sighed in relief, before becoming consumed with worry again. As they came closer, he saw that they weren’t walking, but stumbling along, Alby’s unconscious form draped across Minho’s back, weighing him down and slowing them.

And just as his nerves calmed and he grew hopeful, a noise sounded. He had heard it few times so far but knew it well. The doors were closing and Minho and Alby had a ways to go. At one point, he had realized his own cheering voice had joined those of the other boys urging other two on. But Thomas know- they wouldn't make it.

His muscles acted without warming- he bolted forward. He didn't know what he could ever hope to do once inside; the doors were nearly closed. But he couldn't stop himself.

_What are you doing?!_

Thomas ignored Newt’s shout.

_Don't you do it, Tommy! Don't you bloody do it!_

He squeezed past the doors with barely a moment to spare. Panting, he noticed how fast his heart was racing.

At Minho’s hoarse voice, he looked up. “You dumb shank. Did you think that was brave? Do you feel like a hero?”

Thomas wanted to say yes but held his tongue. His words stung.

“I hope you don't say yes cause yer not. Good job killing yourself dumbass.”

Thomas flinched. He was right, but he didn't need to be so rude. Thomas felt a sudden urge to kick the teen in the face.

Then Thomas remembered Alby. “What happened? Did Alby get stung? That's why he's unconscious, right? If hed gotten stung when you actually got there, you should have been able to make it back, right? So why could-”

“Shut up Greenie. You don't know jack. Now I suggest you leave Alby and run unless you want an even shucking slimmer of hope of making it another hour.” After he finished, he fell to his knees. Thomas felt a bit guilty. He looked completely worn out.

“Sorry.”

Minho clicked his tongue. “Whatever. But seriously. Alby is completely shucked. You need to go.”

“What? He’s still alive, isn't he?”

Minho glared at him like he was stupid. “He's been _stung_ , greenie. There's no saving him. His last chance was cut the second those damn doors shut. And so was ours, so I’d either get going so you possibly last another hour, or get those tear ducts running cause they'll be here soon and you'll be gone right after.”

Thomas wanted to argue, but he couldn't. He didn't know as much as Minho, and he knew the guy would say something unless he really was out of hope. With one last look, Minho turned around and jogged away.

Thomas’ face fell. That coward. He still had questions- things he had to know. He didn’t even know the maze? And that coward just left?

_Tommy._

‘Newt?’

_You fucking dumbass. What the hell was that?_

‘Why do you care. You’re dead anyway.’

_Because I care about you, dumbass. You know it's not safe!_

Thomas knew if Newt had hands, he'd be slapping him. ‘I’m sorry Newt. But I had to do something. Anything.'

_...I know._

Thomas started at Alby’s unconscious body, deep in thought.

\---

Some minutes passed. Was it five? Twenty? Thomas had no way to tell. But when he completed his task, Alby had been strung up on the wall with more than a little effort. He was spurred on by the ominous clicking and whirring sounds, and the occasional thought of encouragement from Newt.

Thomas wanted to hide as well, but the thought of being a sitting duck didn’t sit with him. And then, as the last vine got tied off, a large form came around the corner and Thomas’ blood froze.

_Run, Thomas!_

The creature was infinitely more unspeakably horrible when a thick window of glass didn't separate them. The only thing between them was air.

His legs stiffened and after one more terrified look and a desperate shout from Newt in his head, he bolted.

The thing was after him, but it moved slower than him. Thomas had wanted to climb the vines, possibly duck out of danger. But the risk of the thing being able to climb outweighed any benefits; if he guessed right and the thing could climb, he would be much slower.

As he shot around a corner, Newt’s voice suddenly popped into his brain.

_You...This hallway isn’t a good idea. Take a left up there._

Part of Thomas wondered why Newt would have any idea which way to go, but he ignored it and listened. Maybe he knew something about mazes Thomas didn’t. Maybe it was angel powers or whatever the hell other magical things Newt said he could be.

As he started running past a corner, a pair of arms gripped his waist and yanked him sharply to the let. He struggled until he noticed Minho was there, letting his arms go, already jogging away.

“It's..” Miho panted, “Dark, so they might not have seen us. But we aren't taking risks, so let's get as much distance as we can before we catch our breaths. You're lucky you're so fit or you'd be dead as a doornail, shank.”

Thomas gasped out a laugh and went up next to him. “God.. I wish there was some sort of real sharp turn...I had an idea but I'm not sure how it would work. I….They’re so big if we could trick them into running into a wall with a faint, we could lose them real quick...shit, I don't think we lost them for long. I hear them. A bit of a way back.” he finally stopped talking, the words making him more out of breath than he had been.

Minho slowed and Thomas nearly crashed into him. “Thomas...You’re a genius!” He then doubled back and turned right on a corner they had passed moments ago. “Follow me!”

Confused, Thomas followed behind. They ran in silence, having no idea how far behind them any grievers may have been. After they ran for a while, they came to...an opening in the maze? Thomas blinked wondering if what he was seeing was what he thought it was. Have they somehow stumbled across the exit? Maybe they could only get to it at night? Had they-

“I can practically hear you thinking. And no,” Minho said. “It's not an exit. We don’t know what it is, but anything that falls off just...goes on. Forever. So no. Not an exit. But...your trick could work here, could it?

Thomas grinned. “Totally.”

\---

Some time, a lot of close calls, and three dead(?) grievers later, Thomas and Minho flopped down against one of the walls, completely exhausted. They sat in silence, half in shock, half incredibly relieved that they had somehow survived.

_That was amazing._

Thomas jumped. Newt hadn’t talked to him since earlier that night. ‘Thanks. I'm just so amazed. I haven’t lived here long...but I know this wasn't supposed to happen.

_Yeah...it wouldn’t have happened without you, though._

‘Don't flatter me.’

_It's true._

Thomas felt his eyes fill. ‘Thanks. I just….i don’t remember much., but I'm sure this was the scariest moment of my whole life.’

_I’m sure._

He went silent, and the three of them sat, wordless until Minho broke it.

“I heard you and Chuck talking. About the second-in-command.”

Thomas jumped at his voice. “O-oh! Yeah...I did. Sorry. I was curious, but I shouldn’t have been so nosy.”

“No. it's fine. And….you were right. I should have been able to get back on time. My own stupid- yeah. You were right and I shouldn't have yelled at you for it.”

Thomas was shocked. Minho seemed so vulnerable, no longer safe behind his wall of sarcasm.

“It’s fine. You had to lug around Alby. That can't be easy.” he tried to chuckle, but it didn't come out.

“No that's not why.” Minho’s voice wavered. “You heard about the Alby’s second right? That he was killed? He...he was my best friend.”

Thomas’ throat caught. “Oh.”

“It was not even a full week after Chuck got here. He’d been gone a long time in the maze, he usually came back pretty early. I got nervous and went out to check on him- you're not supposed to but I had to -and when I got to his section he was...he was…”

“Griever?” Thomas asked, voice small. He had known people died here, but seeing the raw emotion up close like this made it feel all the more real.

“No.” Minho choked out. “No. It wasn’t a griever. He,” A sob escaped, and Thomas looked away. “He jumped. His leg was all wrong and there was so much blood, but thought I had still got there in time,”

He trailed off, and Thomas started over the edge of the cliff.

“He been off for a few days before but I never thought…” Minho wiped tears from his face, but more replaced them. “My best friend killed himself and I couldn't do anything! I've been regretting everything I have done for the last few weeks. And then yesterday we were heading back and my path led me to where he...he jumped, and I couldn’t do it. I'm so weak and look where that got me. If it wasn’t for you, wed all be dead and I’m completely to blame.”

Thomas didn't know how to reply. What do you say to something like that?

  
“I...I don't think I could do it either. You're not weak. You’re still going, aren't you? That's something to be proud of. And I bet your friend is proud of you too.”

A bitter smile crossed Minho’s lips. “You’re bloody optimistic aren't ya, shank? Well, I hope so. I sure hope so.” He trailed off, and they remained in silence until the sun crept above the tall stone walls.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For clarification- Thomas does NOT know the person Minho was telling him about is Newt. (Cause he's not that smart)
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


	3. I Sit Alone In This Winter, Clarity Which Clouds My Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the wait- I was hoping for weekly updates but I was out of town and my schedule got messed up. Hopefully, this doesn't happen again...
> 
> starting this chapter and on is really where some of the story will be deviating from the original. All the changes are intentional and done to fit how I believe the story and characters would change without newt. Just keep this in mind!
> 
> And sorry, I really want to get to more Newt and Thomas but plot :/

_At some point, Newt has fallen unconscious. Minho was worried, but he couldn't deny that he felt better no longer having to listen to those pained cries Newt slipped out everytime his leg got jostled or a cut got brushed._

_Carrying him slowed him down, but Minho didn't stop. How much time did they have? He had left with enough time….but he was so caught up in saving Newt that he had no clue how long he had been in there. He sped up his run, trying not to gag at the sight of Newt’s leg, swinging painfully in the completely wrong direction._

_After a moment more, he turned onto a familiar hall; he could reach the exit in a few hundred more feet. When he took the last corner and jogged into the glade, he saw a cluster of gladers anxiously waiting. They had clearly noticed their mother hen was missing._

_Once he entered, the faint noise of someone shouting for a med-jack penetrated his ears. Everything seemed muffled, and he realized that probably meant he was in shock. He looked down at Newt’s face to tell him it was ok, that they were back when he noticed newt wasn't awake. Newt wasn't moving._

_“Newt?” He whispered. Newt’s chest barely rose._

_Blood roared in his ears. He jumped when someone took the limp form from his arms, and only after Alby’s incessant shouting did he realize the med-jacks had taken him. Alby turned Minho to face him._

_“I know. I know, Minho. But I need you to calm down. The med-jacks are doing their best, so I need you to get a grip.”_

_Minho didn't realize he’d been crying until he felt a tear drip onto his hand. He leaned forward and buried his head in the other boy’s shoulder. He then let out the words he had been working through his head, that he really didn't want to say._

_“He jumped...Alby, he jumped...even though I've tried so hard…”_

_Alby brought his hands up and hugged Minho so tightly it almost hurt. “No. Never blame yourself. There wasn't anything we could do to help him. He...he never liked to open up about himself. I'm certain you're what kept him around this whole time.”_

_Minho didn't reply; only shoved his head back into Alby’s shoulder and sobbed._

\----

“Oh my god!”  
“Is that them?”  
No way…”  
“How did that greenie make it all the way overnight?”  
“I thought it was impossible to survive a night in the maze!”

Myriad shouts and muttering met them as they stumbled out of the maze. Once they had woken up, the duo had run towards the glade, where the doors were already open.

A few boys rushed the two, clearly in shock. “H-how?” One asked.

“It was Thomas! ”Minho exclaimed. “He did-” Thomas cut him off.

“Let's get Alby first. Then we can talk?”

“Right.” Minho took a deep breath, then turned back to the maze. “I need some help. I'm not sure what contraption Thomas set up but it sounds complicated.”

“Alby?” A boy asked. “Wasnt he hurt? That's why you were unable to run faster. Wouldn't that mean the grievers would have gotten him? He was a sitting duck.”

 

Thomas shifted as a few guys ran past him to the maze. He stared at his hands, wringing them together.

_Hey. I'm sure he's fine. I wouldn't worry._

‘How do you know I'm worried?’

_Really? I'm not stupid. But even if he died, nobody would blame you. You did your best, Tommy._

Thomas flushed. ‘Thank you.’

Newt just chuckled.

‘You know, I think I like you better than all these dumbasses here. And you don't even have a face.’

Newt laughed, making Thomas glad Newt wasn't actually real, so he wouldn't see Thomas blushing.

The rest of the time spent getting down Alby and the Gladers generally freaking out, Thomas could only keep looping that sound in his head.

\----

Thomas shifted uncomfortably in his chair. The keepers had called a meeting to discuss his _actions_ the previous day. He knew technically he had broken a rule, but the whole thing felt really stupid. He’d saved their goddamn asses, and they wanted him to be punished?

He really, really wanted to say something, speak his mind, yell at someone, anything. But they said he wasn't allowed to speak and honestly, he didn't need to get yelled at by Minho again.

_Looks like someone is not really having a good time._

‘How’d you get to that conclusion, Einstein?’

 _Don’t bloody mock me. I am trying to keep you from stabbing someone. Looks like you're about there_.

“Greenie? He’s not a greenie anymore. He’s just a rulebreaker, and we can’t have dumbasses who don't know how to follow one, single, easy rule.” _That_ was Gally.

“Yeah, but he saved Minho and Alby!” Another keeper.

“Did he? I bet it was all just Minho. This shank can't do shit. Minho just felt bad for little Thomas here.”

_Wow. What a bitch._

Thomas barely stopped himself from laughing out loud, but he still got a dirty look from Gally.

_Honestly, it seems like every bloody kid in this place is either trying to get you pushed into the maze or about to beg your bloody hand for marriage._

‘Shush.’

_But I’m right._

“God, shut up, Gally! I know you guys aren't used to meetins’ like this.” Minho’s eyes fell sad for a short second before returning to normal. “But with our first two in command...unavailable, I’m next in line, so you need to get your fucking asses in line before I smash something because I can tell you that I am not in the goddamn mood for your bitching. We’re going in order and that is that. If I tell you to speak, you fucking speak. If I tell you to shut up, you'd better get your trap shut. Am I clear? Zart. You're up.”

“Um, well,” Zart looked nervous, being up first and Thomas couldn't blame him. Minho looked pissed. “He did break our number one rule, but he also showed us we have some power. It was supposed to be impossible to survive the maze at night. Now the greenie shows us we can? I don't have any particular recommendations but I think we need to take that into consideration.” He sat back down, looking relieved to have the spot off of him.

Thomas wanted to hug Zart.

“Alright. Frypan?”

The cook stood up. “Shank’s got more guts than I’ve fried up from every pig and cow in the last year. How stupid is this—he saves Alby’s life, kills a couple of Grievers, and we’re sitting here yappin’ about what to do with him. As Chuck would say, this is a pile of klunk.”

‘Finally, someone has some sense.’

_Are you saying that if they don't agree with you, they don't have sense?_

‘No, I just think this rule is overrated.’

_Is it? Maintaining control in a situation like this is pretty vital._

‘Not you too, Newt.’

_I’m just saying._

Minho had gone through a few more keepers, most praising him, some demanding punishment. When it rolled around back to Gally’s turn, Thomas grimaced.

“Gally. Your turn.”

“I think I have made my opinion very clear.”

Minho rolled his eyes and Thomas grinned. It felt good to know he wasn’t the only one to dislike the older boy. “Good that. If everyone’s gone then I-”

“I didn’t say I was done,” Gally shouted. Thomas really wanted to punch him.

“Then fucking say it and move on. I am really sick of the words coming out of your shuck mouth.”

“Just think about it,” Gally began with a scowl. “This slinthead comes up in the Box, acting all confused and scared. A few days later, he’s running around the Maze with Grievers, acting like he owns the place!”

Thomas shrank back. Did it seem that way? He wasn't trying to be cocky.

“I think it was all an act. How could he have done what he did out there after just a few days? I ain’t buyin’ it.”

“What’s your point, Gally?” Minho sighed.

“I'm sayin’, I think greenie here is a spy for the creators, the people who put us here!”

The room erupted in many voices. After a few moments of shouting, Minho silenced the group. “What the shuck are you saying, Gally? Where do you get these ideas? Your ass? If you don't have any worthwhile points you can kindly shut your trap or just leave, if that's what’s gonna knock some sense into your klunck of a brain.”  
Gally made an ugly face. “I get it. I know you shanks all hate me. But will you take five shuck seconds to even consider what I'm saying?”

Thomas hated the guy, but he felt a pang of empathy. The things he spouted were complete bull, but he knew it hurts to be ignored.

“No. Because the moment you started doubting my friend, the one who saved my life, you lost your credibility. I don’t care what you think, Gally.”

Thomas winced. Minho’s greatest weakness was his harsh tongue, and this was doing him no favors. Gally flushed in anger.

“You little fucker. I hope the grievers get you and the shuck newbie. If they don't, I'll just kill him myself. And when you realize I’m right, you don't get come crawling back to me. He muttered a handful of foul words and stormed out, fists clenched at pressed against his sides.

“Maybe we can finish this damn gathering now. Who’s next? Oh yeah. Me.” Minho grinned. “Now, what id love to do is make this shank here the keeper of the shuckin’ runners.”

The room erupted in shouts of surprise and anger.

“Hey!” Minho shouted, forcing silence. “I said that's what I wanted to do. And I know you’d all shit a stick if I tried that, so I'll settle for making him a normal runner. How’s that sound?”

Quieter murmuring started until Winston stood up. “I know you said what Thomas did, but since we don't have any proof of this, I hope you excuse us for not having as much faith in the greenie. I can tell that you aren't going to change your shuck brain, so id like to offer a compromise. Let's toss him in the slammer for the night. That way you get what you want, but we can at least pretend we still have some sense of order.”

From next to him, one of the keepers said something under his breath that happened to be loud enough that both Thomas and Minho could hear him. “This is what happens when the only shucking capable person in this whole glade goes and offs himself.”

Minho jumped up until the boy next to him shoved him back in his seat, saying something about ‘it not being worth it’, and ‘save your energy’. Minho relaxed, but he wouldn't take his eyes from the boy, his whole body giving off an aura of rage.

Thomas sat awkwardly, nobody knowing what to say. It was just his luck then, a moment later, when Chuck burst in, chest heaving,

“Chuck? Minho asked, confused. “The shuck you doing here? You ain’t a keeper.”

“I- I'm sorry.” He gasped out, hands on his knees. “But Alby wants Thomas. Now.”

Thomas stood up slowly, unsure. Why did Alby want him? Wasn’t he going through the changing? He didn't know someone in the changing could talk. And why him?

“Alby? That shuck’s awake? Whatever. This gathering is about done anyway. Thomas, you get the slammer all day tomorrow. Be ready.”

Thomas nodded at him, then ran out of the room after Chuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newt and Thomas' dialogue is hard when there's no body language to go along with it...
> 
> If it seems familiar, a few of the dialogue lines in the trial scene were copied from the book. I figured there was no point in changing it, as this part didn't change much


	4. Alone In The Wind and The Rain You Left Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Presents this to my readers 2 weeks late...Merry Christmas????? (I'm sorry)
> 
> hopefully, I can get the next one out a little faster while on break!
> 
> (edit: Sorry if the telepathy ping pong gets annoying, there shouldn't be very much more with Theresa from now on)

_Minho stood and stretched, his body stiff from sleeping on the floor. He looked at the door next to him. Still closed. He sighed and slumped back to the ground. The med-jacks had been in there for hours, and they wouldn't let him in. He’d given up after they told him his yelling was only going to make things worse._

_The door unlatched then, making him jump. He scrambled to his feet and faced the two._

_“Well? How is he? He’ll be ok, right?” He asked hopefully._

_But when his gaze met theirs, cold ran down his back. Clint’s eyes looked red._

_“I'm sorry Minho.”_

_His body felt numb. All he could hear was his heartbeat. “No.” he whispered._

_He frantically pushed past the two who made no effort to stop him. He ran into the room, stopping at the foot of the last bed. There he was. His best friend._

_When he first looked at him, it really seemed like he was sleeping. Maybe they were just sorry because they couldn't completely fix him. He’d have a bum leg maybe. He wouldn't be a runner but he'd be okay. He'd be alive._

_But the more he looked, the more he knew he wasn’t just sleeping. The thin sheet covering his chest was still. No sign of movement from breaths._

_Newt was always fair skinned, but then, he looked even paler. Wrong. On the table beside him, a pile of bloody bandages sat, like they were mocking him._

_A faint ache made Minho notice he had dropped to his knees. He moved forward and grasped the limp hand in front of him. It was cold. He looked and felt even smaller than normal._

_He thought he had been all cried out, but at the sight of his friend, lying there, the tears returned full force._

_“I am so sorry Newt. I should have-” He hiccuped on a sob, and shook his head in an attempt to refocus. “I should have known, I should have tried harder. If I was a better friend, maybe you would have felt safe enough to confide in me.”_

_Minho gave up on trying to stop the tears and let them fall, dripping onto their intertwined hands like a light rain._

_“I hope...I hope at least you’re happier wherever you are. You deserve that much. I-I’m sorry.”_

_He stood and walked out of the room, barely noticing Clint and Jeff in the hall, sharing their own tears._

\-------

When he had walked into the room, he didn't know what to expect. He knew what someone going through the changing looked like -thanks to Ben- but he couldn't have prepared himself for seeing such a strong person looking so, so frail.

He stood for a moment, awkward as hell and really hoping for someone else to be there when Alby spoke.

“I know who you are.”

Thomas jumped at the voice. What did he mean?

“Seen it. Seen everything. Where we came from, who you are. Who the girl is. I remember the Flare.”

“The...the Flare? And the girl?”

“Yes,” Alby had chewed on his lip a moment before continuing. “It’s not pretty. Been wondering if leaving is even worth it. We are trapped, sure, but we’re safe.”

Alby had tried to continue, but, as if something had possessed him, his hands came to his throat and began to choke himself. Thomas stood, frozen until a voice he didn't register as in his head shouted at him to stop him.

He rushed forward, throwing himself at the bed and grabbing Alby’s arms. He tried to pull his arms away, but an unbelievable strength made him feel like he was trying to budge a pillar. He faintly wondered if it was his normal strength or the strength of whatever the hell was making Alby attack himself.

Alby’s thrashing and muffled groaning unnerved Thomas, and he tried harder to help him, but the second he started to detach one of the thick arms, it held fast.

Then Alby’s arms went limp and Thomas almost fell over. Once he regained his balance, he saw why- Alby had fallen unconscious.

“Alby?” He gasped out. “Shit. Alby?”

He got up and bolted out, clambering down the stairs and bolting out, running across the field until he literally bumped into Minho.

“Al-by...he...he was…” Thomas gasped, trying to catch his breath, simultaneously pantomiming a choking motion, hoping his point got across. “Knocked himself out.”

Minho swore and sprinted back, Thomas on his heels.

  
When they got back, Alby was still out, and a ring of ugly bruises peeked out on his dark skin. Minho shook him and grunted in annoyance when he got no reply.

“Dumb shank. The only people who remember anything are those going through the changing. Go figure that the Creators would program a little fail-safe in us so we don't just spill the beans.”

Thomas hummed in agreement, staring at his feet.

“Oh yeah,” Thomas looked up. “I was gonna take you out into the maze tomorrow, but I think it might have to wait. I usually like to say ‘fuck you’ to anyone who doesn't like what I do, but so much is going on that not riling people up might be the right choice for once.”

“That makes sense.”

Minho nodded. “Glad we're on the same page, shank. Everyone's still bitching about you goin' out into the maze, and technically we forgot about any sort of punishment, so I'm gonna call it safe, let people chill their shuck brains and go out in a couple days.”

Thomas nodded absent-mindedly, not caring enough to complain. He couldn't bring himself to care at the maze at the moment, anyway.

Not paying much attention to whatever else was happening, he wandered off back to the Homestead and laid down in his hammock.

_Tommy?_

‘Hey, Newt.’

_He’ll be fine. Don’t worry. But you know, you got off real soft at that meeting there. No punishment? I like you and id still throw ya in the slammer for at least one bloody day. You’re going to get soft._

Thomas actually laughed at that. ‘I guess I’m lucky you’re stuck up there, then.’

_Lucky indeed._

**Tom.**

Thomas jumped. A new voice popped in his head, too feminine and not British to be Newt.

‘Did you...hear that?’

_Hear what?_

I **t was us, Tom. We did this. It was us.**

‘There’s a girl! She-she’s talking to me in my head, like you!

_Wait, really?_

Newt sounded shocked and almost a little hurt. Thomas fought the urge to look around for the source of the voice, knowing he wouldn’t see it. He could tell it was coming from his head.

‘Who are you?” He tried thinking about her. How was he supposed to control which person he ‘talked’ to?

**You can communicate back? I’m impressed. Telepathy is tricky. But I figured you would have a harder time. I have to concentrate really hard.**

Thomas decided not to mention he had gotten pretty used to a voice in his head. When he did think back, he noticed a slight headache, like the connection wasn’t as natural, more forced.

‘Who are you?’

**My name is Teresa. I'm the last one.**

‘Wait...are you the girl? That came up in a coma?

**Yes.**

‘Newt, buddy?’

_Yes? You leaving me for the new girl?_

‘What? Never. You wish. But...it's the girl. The one in the coma?’

 _Cool_.

‘You don't seem to be very bothered by this.’

_Should I be? You talk to me in your head and you don't seem to be too hung up on that fact._

‘Yes, you should! And I dunno, I kinda just try not to think about all the ways it doesn’t make sense. According to what you told me, you should be dead. If you're dead, how do you talk to me? Nothing makes sense- Shit!’

_What?_

‘You are dead. And you can talk to me. What if the reason she started talking to me is cause she’s dead?’

Without giving Newt a chance to reply, Thomas rolled off his hammock, grunting as he landed on a bruise. Stumbling up, he bolted through the dark until he made it to the homestead. His banging eventually brought a groggy, sleepy-eyed Clint to the door.

“What the fuck, man? Isn’t it like,” Clint glanced at his watch. “1:30? In the morning?”

Thomas opened his mouth to explain what just happened in his head, before closing it again. If he tried to tell Clint that he’d woken him up because the clearly comatose girl spoke to him in his head, Thomas could only imagine the hell he would be put through.

He was desperately trying to think up an excuse for checking on the girl _right then_ when he was given one in the form of a loud crash and a high-pitched wail. The exchanged a quick glance of shock before both inside and up the stairs.

Up in the girl’s room, they found the window shattered and Jeff lying on the floor, groaning and covering his crotch.

“Um, what the hell man? Am I walking in on something personal?” Jeff looked up and flushed.

“What? No! The damn girl woke up, so I tried talking to her, like a reasonable person, you know, and she kicked me! Right in the balls too!” He groaned again. “It hurt, dammit.”

Thomas couldn't hold in a burst of laughter. “So that girly scream was you?” Jeff gave him the stink eye.

Clint spoke up. “And that’s why the window is broken and she's nowhere to be seen?”

“Dumbass. After she kicked me, she just...jumped, right out of the window! I was going to see where she went but I was too injured from battle.”

Clint and Jeff continued to banter, and while they were doing that Thomas ran off.

On his way out, Thomas peered into Alby’s room and grimaced. He should have woken up already, right? The bruises were still there more apparent and very clearly hand-shaped.

He turned away and sprinted down the stairs and out the open door.

‘Teresa? Teresa?’

**Yes, Tom?**

‘Where are you?’

**I don’t know. I ran towards a lot of trees?**

Thomas turned toward the deadheads, rubbing his forehead. Talking to her seemed to give him a headache. When he got close enough, he called out her name as loud as he could without potentially waking anyone up. A head popped out and he jogged over to where he stood.

Looking at her he could say she was very pretty, moreso, now that she wasn’t in a coma. But he could not bring himself to just give in to her.

“You...you know something? About me, I mean? Like, you remember me?”

“Some,” She admitted. “I know you and I are important. I know the maze...is a code? Somehow. And…” She held out her palm, showing off three words inked in smudged ink.

**WICKED is good**

“I...I’ve seen that! WICKED...it's an acronym, isn’t it?

She opened her mouth to reply.

“Hey! I found them!”

Clint, Jeff, and Minho were running toward them. When they got close enough, Minho put his hand out to Teresa to shake. “Hey, I heard you took out ol’ Jeff with a nice kick! Smooth, girl.”

She gave him an incredulous look but accepted his hand. “Watch out, or you'll be next.”

Behind her, Thomas stuck in a loud “ooooo” that got him a glare from all of them.

“But seriously. You’re the first girl, ever, and you show up way off schedule, we have to be a bit suspicious.” Thomas felt a little defensive, but couldn’t say anything. Minho was right.  
Clint, however, did speak up. “True, but nothing has happened yet, right? Let’s just call it a day. We can figure out what to do when it’s morning and not dark out.”

They all agreed emphatically and went back to the Homestead, Teresa agreeing to stay in her old room again. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's going to be implied there was something between Newt and Minho but whether it was an actual relationship or just unrequited feelings is completely up for interpretation. 
> 
> At this point, things will start diverging from canon. A lot of this is completely interpretation of how the stories would go without newt, so I hope it all makes sense.
> 
> And again, thank you for reading.


End file.
